


Devil's Path

by Kadira



Category: Midare Somenishi
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-10-14
Updated: 2007-10-14
Packaged: 2017-11-16 20:14:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/543393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kadira/pseuds/Kadira
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><em>"Go Shirou. I'll always follow you. Call me when you get tired. That's when I'll make you mine."</em> - Sougetsu keeps his promise.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Devil's Path

He can feel the poison flowing through his blood, slowly taking possession of him, as he sinks down at the shore of the lake, clutching his shoulder.

Damn idiots! And he as well, for not paying more attention to his surroundings and letting himself be poisoned by an arrow.

With a grunt, he jerks the arrow out of his shoulder, holding back the scream that threatens to come up as a wave of pain rolls through his body and darkens his vision for a moment. He forces himself to breathe through the pain, then stares at the arrow and the blood that drips off it, into the lake, where it stays for a moment, dark and vibrant against the brownish-green water, before it mixes with it, slowly losing its bright shade and then vanishing entirely.

"What a mess." He isn't really surprised when he hears the voice and doesn't turn around either as a shadow falls over him, obscuring the sun. A part of him has known that the other man wouldn't just give up and leave him alone. Sougetsu had promised that much when he had found him at the barracks a lifetime ago (at least it seems that long ago).

"Let me see." Before Shirou has a chance to react, fingers are on his shoulder, pushing away his hand and pulling down the cloth covering the wound before poking at it, making him wince.

"That doesn't look good."

"The others look worse," Shirou says and tries to pull away. He gives up on the useless endeavour when the combination of pain and Sougetsu's hold on him makes it even impossible to breathe.

"I don't doubt it. But it is the blood of others that looks good on you, not your own," Sougetsu says and Shirou thinks he hears a grin in the others voice, the broad one, which always did the most interesting things to his body in the past.

"Like your blood? Would that look good on me as well?" The effect of the words is somehow diminished as clear water hits his shoulder, making him wince with its iciness even while it cleanses the wound. "Why are you here anyway?" Shirou asks when he can breathe again, voice pressed.

"I told you before that I'd never let you go. I'm just following up on that promise. You can try to run away as often as you want, but you'll never be able to escape me. You are _mine_."

"Why? Haven't you found another diversion yet? Somebody else you can use? Or maybe because you remembered some things to offend me, which you forgot last time?" Shirou asks, yet there's no real fire behind the words. He blames the poison for the exhaustion he feels, which even takes away his will to fight against the other man. Unfortunately, it doesn't take away the memories as well and he remembers each and every one of Sougetsu's painful words as if they've burned themselves into his mind. And maybe they have. "Or just to watch me die?"

"Do you want to die?"

He grimaces as Sougetsu lays bare his shoulder entirely and rubs with a wet cloth over his wound. "Damn you! Did I ever give the impression? I'm a coward when it comes to that, otherwise I'd have ended it long ago already," he presses out once he regains his voice.

"There's no cowardice in wanting to live. Dying is much easier," Sougetsu says. "I need to cleanse it thoroughly. If you want to live, that is. Otherwise I will just leave it as it is and nature will probably go its course. You still might survive, but I wouldn't count on that." Shirou can hear the challenge in the other's voice, just as clearly as last time. And like last time, it infuriates him. However, this time he refuses to take the bait.

"I told you already that I want to live. Isn't that enough for you? What else do you want to hear?" he asks, tiredly.

Sougetsu doesn't answer, not in words, but just brushes Shirou's hair aside. The small gesture is unsettlingly comforting, makes Shirou remember things he has tried to erase from his memories for good. Such a simple gesture shouldn't feel this good, Shirou knows. In fact, he should just turn around and kill the other man, make him pay for what he did, or at the very least try to get away. But right now, that seems like an impossible task. He can't shake off the other man, yet if it is due the poison working its magic or something else he can't say. He doesn't really care either.

"This will hurt," Sougetsu warns him.

It is an understatement. This time he can't entirely hold back the scream when liquid - not water, but alcohol, judging by the smell and how it bites into his skin - hits the wound and burns its way through his blood, in a race with the poison.

"Bastard," he snarls, or at least he thinks he does, because darkness slowly creeps in to claim him and he isn't really sure about anything anymore. Not even if he really hears the almost painful-familiar voice in his ear that seems to speak far too soothing as that it could be Sougetsu, or about the arms that are suddenly around his body, pulling him down and holding him, or about the hand that is on his forehead, caressing, stroking, calming.

~ · ~ · ~ · ~

He feels too warm and comfortable to really want to open his eyes, yet it is for the same reason that he almost jumps up as soon as he becomes really aware of the sensation. It is an unfamiliar comfort, one that he hasn't allowed himself to have anymore since... Fujimaru. A punishment to himself and a constant reminder of his madness that always means destruction but which he can't escape, since it is just as much part of him as everything else.

He supports himself on one arm to get a better overview, then falls back with a wince as pain shoots through his whole body. "Shit!" he brings out between clenched teeth.

After a few moments in which he does his best to catch his breath, he tries it once more, clutching his shoulder with his left hand while moving awkwardly into a sitting position. He feels dizzy as he looks around. This vulnerability is a feeling he hates the most, he thinks. Such weakness... It is frustrating and maddening at the same time when one can't even perform a simple act like sitting up without problems. That it is his sword arm that is rendered useless, no matter if temporarily or permanently, doesn't make it any better.

"You should take it slow for some time." This time Shirou jumps to his feet. He regrets the action immediately as another wave of pain runs through his body, making him groan and almost bringing him back to his knees. "You will survive if you want. It depends on your will to live," Sougetsu says and comes to a hold in front of him. Absently, Shirou takes in the half nude form, as well as the long, dark hair that falls over the broad shoulders and frames Sougetsu's face and from which thin rivers of water run down onto his arms and chest. "But you need a lot more rest," and with that Sougetsu pushes him back down in front of the fire.

"What do you mean 'a lot more'? I'm perfectly fine."

"Oh yes? Let's test it."

Shirou can't suppress a strangled cry when Sougetsu claps his shoulder.

"Bastard!"

"You can't even defend yourself right now. If you wanted to die so badly, after all, you should have said it. It would have spared me a lot of trouble."

Shirou winces inwardly at the words. "I didn't ask you for anything," he retorts.

"No. You never did. Here, drink," Sougetsu says in a strange tone that Shirou can't quite place and hands him a bottle. Shirou blames his confusion on the poison and the pain.

"As if you ever listened. I asked you to let me - us - go. You never even considered it. I asked you to keep my brother safe, but you couldn't even do that," Shirou says and doesn't even try to hide the bitterness he feels. The bitterness that had come after the sadness and the anger had become too much to keep up. Almost mechanically, he takes the bottle and takes a sip from it.

"No, you didn't ask for anything. You only demanded," Sougetsu says and a soft chuckle accompanies his words.

"You think that funny?"

"No. But your stubbornness is. It's still as strong and amusing as before."

Shirou glares at the other man. "Good for you."

Awkward silence falls between them as he takes another sip and observes Sougetsu wrapping himself back in his kimono.

"Did you know what they did to my brother?" He finally asks the question that has been burning in him for years already as Sougetsu binds his hair together again.

"No," Sougetsu says and no matter how hard Shirou tries to find it, there doesn't seem even a hint of hesitation in the other's voice or the trace of a lie. It doesn't make him happy. It would be far easier to deal with everything that happened and to hold onto his anger and his hate if he would catch Sougetsu lying. Maybe then he would even be able to kill the bastard.

"If you really didn't know, then it paints a poor picture of you as a leader. Would you have done something if you had known?"

The other man just shrugs. "Does it still matter? It wasn't what destroyed him. It was your madness that consumed him in the end."

Shirou shivers, yet he doesn't know if it is because of the cold or because of the painful truth in Sougetsu's words. "A madness you fostered until it was fully blown," he retorts, but there's no malice in his voice. It's just a statement, nothing more, nothing less. He is too tired for anything else.

Sougetsu doesn't reply. Instead he crosses the short distance between them and wraps a blanket around Shirou. It is an intimacy that is as disturbing as it is comforting.

"You've always been my beautiful red devil. So passionate and so ruthless," Sougetsu says, pushing a strand of red hair out of Shirou's face. It is too much then, awakens memories that are too strong and which Shirou really doesn't want to think about, certainly not anymore after they last separated. He jerks away, tries to get some more distance between them.

Then he snorts. "I've been your toy and a very useful tool, nothing more. I did the things you wanted, but couldn't do," he says with much more force than what would be necessary. Not being injured and being completely in control of himself would be perfectly fine right now, Shirou thinks. Then he wouldn't have to listen to this, wouldn't be forced to remember and could at least _try_ to get away.

He can feel the other man stiffening behind him. "If that is what you want to think..."

"Don't try to bring something into this that isn't there. I won't fall for it. I should just kill you and take you down to hell with me."

"Maybe you should, but you won't. You had countless opportunities to make true on your promise to take my head. There's a reason that you never did it," Sougetsu says, still playing with a strand of the hair that had always fascinated him; seemingly oblivious to the discomfort it causes Shirou. Or maybe not. Maybe Sougetsu knows exactly what it does to him. It is entirely possible as far as Shirou is concerned. "It's for the same reason that you never even tried to escape, Shirou. I was the only one who always accepted you and your nature and your thirst for blood. I was the only one who didn't condemn you for it or fear you," he ends, his voice suddenly hot against Shirou's ear and neck, making him shiver.

Shirou closes his eyes. This is nothing he wants to talk or think about further. Especially since he knows that Sougetsu is right, at least partly. Being with them had been the first and only time that people didn't call him a demon solely based on his looks, before he even did something. In some strange way it has been more his home than with his own family. And after a time the strong desire to escape and to kill Sougetsu has diminished, has become no more than a voice in his mind. It had turned into an idea he held onto until even that voice became lower and in the end only showed up occasionally, mostly when he was with Fujimaru but was almost forgotten again as soon as they were on the field or he was in Sougetsu's bed.

And it is part of the regret that follows Shirou wherever he goes, and threatens to crush him. He knows that he could have saved Fujimaru and so both of them if he hadn't given into the lure of belonging somewhere, if he could have withstand the temptation of flesh and blood. As much as he had fought in the beginning, his body had submitted far too fast to the dark pull of his own lust, and, after a time, his mind had followed, had made him look forward to each encounter like some animal in heat, even if he had tried to hide it. And then there was the rest, of course, the raids and the blood...

He jerks back from Sougetsu's caresses, then turns slightly around and pushes him away before he, not without difficulties, comes to his feet. "Just leave me alone," is all he says. It's all he can say, not only because of his breaking voice, but because the truth can't be argued. But that he knows that it is the truth, doesn't mean that he needs to confront it. It could just be there and be ignored, like most of the time. It is better for everybody that way, mostly for Shirou.

He forces himself not to seek support at the trees and to ignore the pain and the nausea that suddenly washes over him at the movement, as he crosses the short distance to the lake. Awkwardly, he pulls the blanket tighter around him and holds it together with his left hand as the sharp wind tears at his clothes.

"I thought that you survived for so long was a sign that you have moved on. Fujimaru is dead and he won't return, no matter how long you punish yourself for his death." Shirou doesn't answer; tries not to give any inclination that he has even heard Sougetsu as the other man appears behind him again. Yet, he can't ignore the bang of pain he feels at the words. "And in the end it was him who chose death. Nobody forced him to stay in that cave and to die with the one he loved."

Another bang of pain, this one even sharper than before, transforming almost immediately into the blinding anger he had felt _then_ and for seemingly forever after it had happened, before the bitterness had managed to numb it, at least until he had met Sougetsu again.

"Why can't you stop talking about him?" Shirou asks, his voice rough. "Do you still enjoy it so much to see people suffer?" _To see_ me _suffer?_ Shirou hates the wavering in his voice. He hates it almost as much as the whole situation and that the bastard behind him, despite everything that happened, still can affect him so much, that he still holds so much power over Shirou that his words can sting more than a poisoned arrow.

For a short moment there's silence between them again, making Shirou aware of his strained breathing. As much as he wants to blame it on the poison alone, he knows that it isn't true. The nausea becomes stronger, makes it difficult for him to focus on ignoring Sougetsu and the whole situation.

"You are wrong. I never enjoyed it. Not when it came to you. I only always wanted you. Ever since I first saw you on the battlefield, covered in the blood of my men. I wanted to see you at your best. I wanted to have _you_."

Shirou doesn't think that they ever talked that much before, even less so openly. He could very well have done without that now as well. He doesn't want to hear all that. Not now, not ever. He wants to hate Sougetsu. Nothing else. And he wants to sit down again. Preferably before his knees can collapse under his weight, or the blackness at the edges of his consciousness can close in even further, and he can complete his humiliation by fainting.

"But that seems to be the only way to get a rise out of you, the only thing that still makes you feel."

He doesn't have the strength to fight against the arms that are suddenly around him or to reject the warmth. "You couldn't be more wrong," Shirou finally says, voice tight with emotions and effort. Forming the words seems to cost him the last of his strength and with a curse he falls into the arms behind him, lets Sougetsu support his body.

~ · ~ · ~ · ~

"Stay still," is the first thing he hears when awareness returns to him. He opens his eyes, halfway at least, because anything else would be too much of an effort right now. Sougetsu is kneeling beside him on the ground. "I told you that you'd need rest, but you just can't listen. You are still as stubborn as always. Here, drink," and he feels his head lifted and cool liquid filling his mouth, so that he doesn't even have a chance to protest. Not that he would want to. The cool water is a very welcome relief.

"Thanks," he says when he lies back again, his voice still a bit hoarse. That is something new, too. He doesn't think that he ever thanked Sougetsu before. Not that the other ever gave him a reason to do so before.

"How do you feel?"

Shirou manages to sit up with some difficulties and not without a little help. "I ... I'm not sure. Better, I think," he finally says. Then, after he tries to move his arm, "What happened?"

"Your body just decided to get some rest after you refused to give it."

"I ...", Shirou begins, then stops again and instead recalls the last few moments before memory had left him with nothing but a blank hole.

"Your fever has gone down. That is a good sign depending on how you want to see it..."

"I want to live, I said that already," Shirou responds, resigning himself to the hands on his back and his hair, stroking him.

The hands stop in their motion and Shirou can't quite say just why it makes him feel so disappointed. "Then do it instead of merely surviving!"

"I don't know what you are talking about."

Sougetsu snorts. "Do you think Fuji --"

"Don't talk about my brother again! You have no right to do that!"

"-- maru would have wanted that?" Sougetsu continues, completely ignoring him. "Don't you think he would be much happier knowing that you still make the most of your life?"

"I told you not to talk about him anymore!" Shirou says once more, almost screaming. He doesn't want to think about Fujimaru. Not here, not now. Not after he tried his best to suppress the pain for such a long time.

"Why not? Because it hurts you? Because it makes you feel again?"

The hand on his shoulder prevents him from getting up, from following his basic urge to escape. In a child-like gesture, but unable to do anything else, Shirou buries his face in his hands. It's a useless motion to keep the tears inside and to shut out the other man and, even more, his words. He can't deal with that, not now, not in addition to everything else. Damn Sougetsu!

"Damn you," he whispers, voice strained. "Just stop it. _Please_. Let me go."

"No. I won't let you escape again just because you can't deal with it. You are mine. And I won't lose you to a lack of everything. That isn't you."

"You don't know what or who I am," Shirou retorts, voice sharp, yet in almost the same moment he realizes that it isn't true. If anybody knows him, it is Sougetsu. "You don't know me, " he says once more, as if the repetition would make it true. With some effort he stands up and moves closer to the fire that illuminates the twilight and gives the surroundings almost a feeling of home, of _belonging_. Shirou refuses to ponder if it is merely due the fire or rather because of something else, something he shouldn't feel.

Sougetsu follows him and rummages around the improvised camp, half hidden in the shadows, so that Shirou can't see what he is doing. It suits him just fine.

_... that seems to be the only way to get a rise out of you, the only thing that still makes you feel ..._

Shirou laughs. It isn't a pleasant sound. "You don't know anything," he says once more, not particularly to Sougetsu, but just says.

The sound of something falling to the ground, -- or maybe thrown in a sudden fit --, startles Shirou, makes him jump to his feet, regardless of the pain that surges through his body at the abrupt movement.

"Why don't you explain it to me then?" Shirou instinctively takes a step back as Sougetsu moves towards him, a very familiar and very unsettling gleam in his eyes. "I'm tired of your excuses. Of you not knowing what you want. Of your running away without even knowing why, if it is from your grief, the memories, from me and what I gave you, or from yourself... So, what do I not know?" Sougetsu asks in that disconcerting low voice that rarely promises anything good.

Shirou's retreat comes to an immediate end as his back hits a tree. The other man takes hold of his chin, forces Shirou to meet his eyes, which are as penetrating as he remembers. Black pools in which a fire seems to burn that lays Shirou bare, that seems to burn away everything until Shirou is just emotion, raw and vulnerable, until he can't hide anything anymore, not even that which he wants to forget so desperately.

Like in the past.

And like in the past, the closeness to the other man isn't without effect either. Shirou feels a shiver running through his body, starting with his chin and shoulder, where Sougetsu's hands are holding him, then spreading through his entire body.

"Where couldn't I be _more wrong_ and what do I not know?" Sougetsu asks. He is so close that Shirou can feel his hot breath on his face.

He glares at the other man, then jerks his head away, or tries to do so at least, but Sougetsu's grip is too strong and in his current state he is no match for him. He wasn't already in the past, but right now even less. "I won't let you go. Certainly not before I get my answer."

Silence falls between them for a moment, in which they only stare at each other. "Damn you," Shirou says then, once it gets obvious that he's fighting a lost battle here. Like always between them. He never stood a chance against Sougetsu. It is one of the many things Shirou hates him for. And himself.

He closes his eyes, tries to regain control over himself and to suppress the tears that have been collecting since this had started. "You want to get a rise out of me? You don't need to mention my brother for that. You can do that very well alone," he then chokes out while he remembers their last meeting and the easiness with which Sougetsu had managed to break through each and every wall Shirou had carefully build up to hide himself and his pain.

"Is that so?" This time Shirou manages to jerk his head away, refusing to give the other man anything more. Not that it has any effect, because Sougetsu just says (and there's a tone to his voice that makes Shirou shiver, something like a dark purr, as if he would be a tiger on the hunt that is ready to jump), "Let's test it."

Before Shirou can react, Sougetsu's lips are on his neck, kissing their way up to his face. And there's not much Shirou can do, being half pinned against the tree and in his weakened state. Still, he tries to push off the other man with his free arm. The only result his actions gain him is a dazzling wave of pain that runs through his entire body, rendering him breathless for a moment.

"Bad idea," Sougetsu murmurs against his cheek. The warm breath caressing his skin isn't half as unpleasant as it should be and even Shirou's half-hearted struggles cease to be. Not only is it useless, as he knew already, but he doesn't have the strength anymore to fight against something just because it should be wrong but doesn't feel at all so. Despite everything that happened and maybe still would happen, he _wants_ Sougetsu. Wants to feel him once more, wants to be engulfed by his warmth, wants not to feel alone anymore, wants to feel _alive_.

"Bastard. I hate you," Shirou says, but the insult lacks the fire of before. It just has to be said. And even so, the meaning of his statement is belied by his arms that unconsciously wrap around the other's neck, even ignoring the pain for now, and his lips that seek Sougetsu's.

Shirou can't say how it happened, but suddenly they're back in front of the fire, on the ground, and he finds himself arching up into the other's hands and mouth, both of which seem to be everywhere on his body, caressing every inch of bare skin they can reach, still knowing exactly what to do to light the fire in him. Shirou feels as if he's burning and he knows that only Sougetsu will be able to put out the fire that rages within him, to satisfy the hunger and to save him. Yet from what, Shirou can't say and doesn't care to think about either, because he knows that he might not like the answer and so he just gives himself over to the sensation the almost painfully familiar yet also strangely new intimacy awakes within him.

Shirou leans into each and every gentle caress, only mildly aware that the moans that reach his ears are his own, and too far gone to care, as he allows Sougetsu's own fire to consume him and to bring back his will to live -

\- like last time, no matter how temporary it was then and might be now. In fact, right now, nothing else matters apart from the fire spreading through his body and the perfectly placed touches and thrusts, as Sougetsu drives him to the brink.

~·~·~·~·~·~·~·

When Shirou wakes up in the middle of the night, it is to him being half buried under Sougetsu, with the other's legs and arms seemingly wrapped around every part of Shirou that his body doesn't cover already. It's a strangely comforting feeling.

With effort and care as not to wake Sougetsu, Shirou untangles himself. He barely manages to swallow the curse that comes up as he supports himself on the wrong arm and comes to his feet. For a moment, he takes the time to observe the other in the light of the dying fire. It is something he has first done when they met last time, but like then, he is once more taken aback at the image. Sougetsu doesn't radiate any of the innocence most other people have while asleep, but magnetism of almost the same strength as in his wakening stage. It is as intimidating as it is appealing, Shirou realises once more. It's just another reason that Shirou has felt so drawn to him, no matter his initial fights. It's probably also that what prevented him from killing the other man, despite all contradicting feelings.

It was perhaps not the only reason but certainly one of the most valid ones and seeing Sougetsu laying there now, and being still enveloped by the other's scent and the very vivid memory of what they have done, Shirou knows that he won't be able to make true on his promise this time either. For a short moment, he can't help but wonder if he could do it if the situation would be any different now, or even if he really could have done it _then_ , in his blinding rage.

In the end, he just shrugs and tears his eyes away.

It doesn't matter anymore. The past is the past and all he knows is that right now he can't do it, can't kill Sougetsu, no matter the reason. He turns around and starts to look for the bottle, which he knows must be there somewhere between all the other stuff.

"You want to run again?" Sougetsu's voice cuts through the silence of the night. He doesn't sound drowsy at all, but fully alert, almost as if he hasn't slept at all. Shirou doesn't put it past him.

For a moment, silence settles between them as Shirou rummages between the covers and forces himself not to react to the dark eyes burning into him, following his every movement. The only sound that escapes him as he seeks support with the wrong arm while fetching the bottle and is once more engulfed in pain, is a low hiss.

"No. Just thirsty." And it is the truth, too. He knows that he could leave Sougetsu, just like last time, but right now, the urge to escape, to run away, diminishes in the light of the rest. He doesn't want to be alone. Shirou has no idea if it wouldn't change at some point again, but right now, what Sougetsu has to offer, his being here, is much more preferable to the days and nights filled with grief, pain and loneliness. It isn't something he gave any thought to before, but neither does it come as a surprise. The feeling just _is_ , and maybe it has been there for longer already, just waiting to be awakened and to be acknowledged. In any case, it's not really something he wants to think about further and he just hopes that Fujimaru can forgive him for yet another weakness.

With some difficulties and a silent curse towards his current, highly annoying helplessness, he opens the bag. The cool water running down his parched throat is a welcome relief, and with a barely audible sigh, he lets himself sink down in front of the fire, relishing the warmth of the dying flames.

Shirou doesn't flinch as Sougetsu sits down behind him and wraps his arms around him, pulling him close, and even finds himself leaning back and closing his eyes.

"Live, Shirou. Live for me," Sougetsu's voice, reaches his ears, so close that he can feel the other's warm breath against his skin and the phantom touch of his lips. It makes him shiver and not necessarily in an unpleasant way.

"I will," he just says and it is the truth. But he wouldn't do it for Sougetsu, nor for Fujimaru. He would do it because it is what _he_ wants.

-·-·-·-·-·-·-·


End file.
